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suki_blueTitle: Hellraiser: The Angels Beneath
Pairing: S/X
A Btvs/Hellraiser x-over
Summary: Riley returns to Sunnydale and brings back a mysterious puzzle box.
Rating: 18
Warnings: Erm, just about every warning you can think of. Character Deaths (Not the boys. Everybody else is fair game), Torture, Dark Themes, References to Non-Con, Non-Con, Sexual Abuse, Extreme violence, Badly Timed Jokes, S&M Themes and probably a whole lot more once I think of them.
Thanks and hugs to the amazing![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kitty_poker1 for the wonderful beta.
Hellraiser: The Angels Beneath
By Suki Blue
He’d spent so long thinking about it, sensing it and just feeling it. There was power beneath its ancient, sculptured surface and it called to him, every day.
For the first six months after he’d found it in some random war-torn village, he’d been terrified of it. He’d kept it hidden away in the back of a dark, dusty cupboard, wrapped in a dirty, bloodstained shirt. He wasn’t even sure why he’d taken it.
Riley’s unit had stormed the tiny village on the southern coast of Crete. Tralor demons had been in occupation for over a month, fighting and persecuting the resident humans and the peaceful demon Piklia tribe. Riley and his team had been sent to eliminate and cleanse all that wasn’t human. And if a human got in the way? Well, that was war. Population expendable.
The ‘war’ had been won in just a few hours. All demons, good and bad, were purged and destroyed. And any humans that might have survived had fled. The village was as Earth’s first day. Desolate.
Riley had wandered around the tiny streets and deserted buildings, looking for any signs of demon survivors to finish off. He’d climbed a steep road on the west side of the village and had found himself standing outside what was probably once some kind of bar or coffee shop. The building was burnt out; nothing could have survived. What made him enter, he would never quite know.
That was when he’d found it. A small coppery coloured box, adorned with a golden pattern, sat on a shelf just inside the building. It had been a trinket amongst trinkets. The floor was littered with broken ornaments, headless dolls and shattered glass. Only one ornament had survived the fight. The box. It sat alone on the shelf and it reached out to him, calling and drawing him in. He’d taken it immediately, feeling that somehow it belonged to him. His missing link. This small object had the power to give him everything. He’d stashed it in his backpack, not caring that he was stealing from someone who had nothing. Not that it really mattered. The owner of this battered establishment was probably dead anyhow. Riley’s unit had cleansed pretty well.
It wasn’t until he arrived back at base camp that his whole body had begun to shake, fear coursing through him like a fiery missile. He’d excused himself and retired to his bunk, flinging his backpack into the corner. He could hardly bear to look at it. Just the thought of touching the box again made his stomach heave. What had he done? Why had he taken it?
Because it was his.
He knew that he couldn’t get rid of it. He couldn’t throw it away any more than he could cut off his leg and throw that away. He was overwhelmed with the feeling that the box was a part of him now and would be forever. The feeling made him feel sick inside and out.
The box thrummed away in the corner, calling, crawling, screaming and clawing at him, begging him to open it up and bathe in its divine pleasures. He tried to block it out, god knows he did, but it was useless. The box wanted to be touched, wanted Riley’s hands to caress and explore it. It wanted him to see, feel, experience and swim in its black depths.
It had taken three quarters of a bottle of white rum before Riley had got up the courage to touch his precious find. There was no way that he could leave it where it was. He had to shut it up before it drove him to edge of his sanity. He ripped open the backpack and tore the box from its hiding place. He quickly wrapped it in the shirt he’d worn in the battle and sighed with relief. The deafening voices and white noise in his head had died down to a dull murmur. It was as if the fabric was keeping hell at bay, the blood of the innocent and the guilty securing the box in an encapsulating barrier. It was still enough to drive him crazy, but at least he wasn’t about to slit his wrists open. He stared down at the bundle he held with madly shaking hands and wondered how he was supposed to carry on. His life had altered in a matter of seconds. A choice faced him: take the box and experience the Divine or walk away and continue with his life. That wasn’t really a choice. The box wouldn’t let him have the luxury of deciding. He’d had to take it and now he had to keep it with him. It was his. It belonged to him. He would guard it and protect it with his life.
And that was how the box had stayed for six months, wrapped in the evidence of pain and conflict and stuffed in a boot at the back of a cupboard. Out of sight but never out of mind. Then, he’d had a revelation, a way to get his floundering life back on track. So he moved back to Sunnydale. His head told him over and over that he wanted Buffy back in his life, to leave the corps and fight the good fight with the Slayer by his side. The box told him that it wanted to go home.
So here he was, a year and a half after finding the box. He had a nice life, a few good friends, a nice apartment that he shared with his wonderful girlfriend and a comfy job with the Sunnydale Police Department. It should have felt good. But it didn’t. The box stayed always in his mind, always there, always chatting to him, screaming and spitting at him. Never letting him leave its clutches and always promising a paradise of eternal damnation. Some days his curiosity was almost too much. It battled with him and nearly tore him in two. The only thing that kept his sanity from slipping completely away was the almost constant flow of liquor. Even then the urge to rip the box from its dark hiding place was painful beyond his own comprehension.
So, in the dark it stayed. Riley was trapped in an endless cycle of burning desire and rigid terror. He re-lived his wonder of how to carry on every day. But at the same time he wondered how he could carry on without the box. Each long day that passed, life seemed more and more drab, his very existence covered in a grey shadow. Nothing could get through, not Buffy, not his friends, nothing, nothing except the box that burned so brightly into his eyes and burrowed into his skull.
It would come. One day. He knew it. He would face it and know its dark delights. The thought terrified him, yet filled him with joy. It would be soon. He felt it. His walls were crumbling, his sanity waning. One look, that was all it would take.
Riley prayed that he would never have to look at the box again. And he hoped that he would wake and find it waiting on his pillow.
He wanted it. He hated it. He couldn’t live without it.
**
“I don’t see why I have to go,” Spike complained. What with Passions being cancelled in place of some stupid ‘news flash’, he’d already had a gutful for one day.
“Because it’s Buffy’s birthday and we’ve both been invited.”
“I still don’t see…”
“Because it’s a happy occasion, we are all friends and I *know* that you want to see Buffy’s face when she opens our present.”
“Look, you know I like Buffy. I don’t have a problem, you know that. But you also know that Riley gets right up my nose.”
“Riley’s a friend,” Xander protested.
“Riley’s a drunk.”
“He isn’t!”
Spike let it go. Xander always saw only the good in people and proving him wrong was like poking a dolphin in the eye. Riley *was* a drunk. Everybody knew it, but nobody wanted to accept it. But Spike had accepted it a long time ago. He smelled it on his breath, on his clothes, even on Buffy. And the stench grew stronger with each passing day. Spike hated being around him and, more than that, he hated Xander being around him, almost fearing his lover would be somehow tainted by Riley’s pungent proximity.
And the only thing worse than being in Riley’s presence was being in Riley’s apartment. He couldn’t place what it was, he just felt chilled to the bone and that was saying something for Spike. The walls seemed to close in on him and Spike would feel almost suffocated.
Spike hid his aversion well, using the excuse of his previous disagreements with the soldier. There was a long history there. A history of hatred, jealousy and the love of a Slayer. Of course, all that was long since past. Spike held no flame for Buffy now. Hell, he didn’t even hold a damp match for her. He’d moved on a long time ago. It hadn’t been love. It had been pain, obsession and the desire to be hurt. Spike had been in a bad place back then, still coming to terms with the chip in his head and his new place among the living. It hadn’t been easy, living around humans. It had been like trying to walk again. Buffy had been a way to distance himself, to still be the Big Bad, to corrupt a Slayer and turn her to his dark corner of life. It had never been love. He'd realised that when he’d stumbled across the real thing. Xander was his all, his everything, his life. He loved him until his un-beating heart sang. This wasn’t a love that hurt or scraped away at his innards until there was nothing left. This was true love. Xander was his truth.
Spike smiled at his frowning lover and flung an arm around his shoulders. If Xander wanted to go to a birthday party that would probably end in tears, then so be it. Spike would attend without further complaint and make sure that Xander wasn’t the one doing the crying.
**
“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!” Xander bellowed as Buffy opened the front door.
“Hey, Xand, Spike. Come in. The party’s already started.” Buffy’s lips spoke with joy and excitement, but her eyes gave her away. They seemed almost dead, unseeing, her gaze flowing right through them.
Xander gave Spike a slightly worried look before stepping inside and keeping up the pretence of ‘happy, happy’.
“Hey, guys!” he chirped at Willow and Tara. The two witches sat together on the couch, paper plates, loaded with nibbles, lying on their laps.
“Xander!” Willow called with a panicked wave and a mouthful of pig in blanket.
Xander turned to Spike before he joined her. “Be a good vampire, *please.* Try not to steal or break anything.”
Spike gave him his most innocent look before making a bee-line for the buffet table.
Xander sat next to his best friend and stole a sausage from her plate. “So, Wills, why the wide eyes? Were you waiting for the Xan-man to come and kick-start this party?” he asked, his voice full of humour.
“Um, actually, yes.”
“Oh. I was joking…”
“Xander, this party is a disaster. Buffy is flying around the room like a mad person and Riley is nowhere to be seen.”
“Buffy’s flying?! Wills, did you do a bad spell again?” Xander asked, ready to waggle his finger at his witchy friend.
“No! I didn’t mean literally! She’s…she’s…”
“She’s fussing and acting like nothing is wrong when something obviously is.” Tara finished.
“I see. And you’re both expecting me to…” Xander searched for a word to describe what he was supposed to do and gave up.
“Just liven things up. Do your thing. Go, Xan-man, go.”
Spike approached just in time to hear Willow's last sentence. “Go where, pet? Home? Good. I’ll come with you.”
“Willow wants me to liven up the party.”
Spike thought about it. “You could strip.”
“Spike!”
“Well, you need to do something radical. I reckon this party died before it started.”
“Shhh!” Xander urged as Buffy came into view.
“What was that?” she asked, completely oblivious.
“Erm, Spike was just asking where the G-man was.”
“Hm? Oh, Giles. He called to say…to say…” Buffy looked distractedly behind her, towards the stairs. “He called to say that he was going to be late…Would you all excuse me?”
Xander and Spike watched as Buffy walked up the stairs.
“What’s wrong with Buffy?” Xander asked.
“I think it's Riley,” Tara replied. “He hasn’t come down all evening and we heard them arguing earlier.”
“Oh.”
“Typical. Asshole can’t even play nice on his bird’s birthday.”
“Spike, don’t…”
Before Xander could properly chide his love for his insensitivity, a loud crash resounded from the floor above and muffled shouts were thrown back and forth. A moment later, Riley appeared at the top of the stairs. His hair was greasy and unwashed and a beard of at least a week covered his chin and jaw. He was a mess.
Silence descended and Riley looked like he’d rather be anywhere else.
Xander drew in a shaky breath as he took in his friend’s appearance. Riley looked like he hadn’t slept in a month.
Riley shifted uncomfortably, hating the stares from his so-called friends. Couldn’t they understand that he just wanted to be left alone? Why couldn’t Buffy understand? Why did she push him *every time*?
“Riley, hon, why don’t you get something to eat? I’ve laid lots on.”
“I already told you, I’m not hungry,” Riley snapped.
Buffy looked crestfallen, her eyes dropping to the floor. “I’m sorry, I thought…”
“Well, you thought wrong.”
Silence again.
Willow and Tara looked pleadingly at Xander. There weren’t many choices left. It was either cheer the place up a bit or leave. And there was only one person in the entire universe that could cheer up a room as cold as this.
Xander mouthed a bewildered ‘What?’ to his friends. What the hell did they expect him to do? There was obviously a situation playing out here. What could he do except open his mouth wide and insert one size thirteen?
“Say sommit daft, pet,” Spike whispered helpfully. “Take the focus off Captain Cardboard.”
“Say what?”
“I dunno. You’re the expert.”
Xander was torn between hitting his lover and kissing him passionately. Even though Spike really didn’t like Riley, he still felt for him. It proved that Spike didn’t need a soul to be compassionate.
Xander smiled and Spike looked confused. He’d expected a slap.
With the decision made, Xander moved across the room and prepared to say something stupid.
“Did anyone see that documentary on peanuts last night? I don’t know where we’d be without them. They put them in everything. ‘Course, that’s a real stinker for anyone that’s allergic.”
Tara raised her hand. “I’m allergic,” she said.
“See? My point exactly.”
Everyone was confused.
“Did you know that I hated peanut butter when I was a kid? I ate a whole jar once and was sick *everywhere.* I couldn’t look another jar in the face after that. Well, not for a few years, anyway. Now? Love the stuff…in moderation. Really good for smearing on…I might just shut up now.”
Riley finally managed a small laugh and moved to stand next to his babbling friend. “No. Don’t shut up. Don’t ever shut up. Put some music on, Xander, and I’ll get us some beers.”
“Great! Got any nuts?”
**
Boring, middle of the road music played softly on the stereo and the conversation was somewhat strained. Giles had turned up at some point in the evening, but Xander barely noticed. He was far too busy watching Riley. His normally happy and healthy friend had deteriorated so much since coming back to Sunnydale a year ago. At first the changes were small, barely noticeable. His absence at a few Scooby meetings. The occasional bouts of biting Buffy’s head off. But as time went on, things became more apparent. Riley wouldn’t show his face for weeks at a time and when he did he was drawn and uninterested. It was like he was folding in on himself, curling up into a tiny ball that no-one would be able to see.
When finally Xander thought that he’d used up every scrap of subject matter required for polite conversation, Spike came over. His lover slipped an arm around his waist and addressed Riley.
“Soooo, how’s the job going?”
Riley snapped. He’d been enjoying a peaceful time with Xander, allowing the younger man to lull his senses with pointless prattle. It was just what he needed. Life was so harsh, so demanding. Pressures at work, Buffy nagging and just fucking *demanding* all the time.
Why don’t you get out of bed? Isn’t it too early for a drink? No, Riley, please don’t, please don’t do that to me. Bitch.
Talking with Xander had been nice. His friend had spoken of the weather, athletics, the regularity of the garbage collection. It allowed him to drift to a place where he had no worries, no fears and NO. FUCKING. BOX. And now, here was that son-of-a-bitch vampire getting in his face and spoiling it all.
“Fuck off, Spike. I don’t know what you think your game is, but I’m not in the mood.”
“Whoa, Riley, cool down, yeah? He was just making conversation.”
“Yeah. Making conversation,” Spike confirmed. “What’s your problem, soldier?”
“Don’t call me soldier. I am not a soldier.”
“Oh yeah. Forgot. You never did tell us why you left. Threw your sorry, unstable arse out, did they?”
Riley lunged at the smirking vampire. “I’ll kill you!”
“No, no! No killing of any kind will be had!” Xander shouted, jumping between the two men and holding Riley back. “Why don’t we all return to our corners and get refreshments? Round one is *over*.”
Riley shrugged Xander off and headed for the stairs. “Just get out,” he whispered wearily.
“Riley…” Buffy started, intent on giving her lover a mouthful for starting trouble with her friends.
“No, don’t, Buff. Leave it. It’s okay,” Xander pleaded.
“It isn’t okay. None of this is okay.”
“What do you want us to do? We can stay, or we’ll all go if that’s what you want,” Willow asked.
“Sorry, guys. It’s probably best that you all go. Riley hasn’t been well lately. I’d better go take care of him.”
“You sure, Buffster? It is your birthday. You wanna come party at our place? Spike bought a cocktail shaker!”
“Shhh, pet!”
“Sorry. Well? You wanna?”
“Thanks, Xand. I’d better not. Riley needs me.”
Xander nodded his understanding. If it was Spike that was behaving so wiggy, he’d stay with him until he sorted out whatever the problem was. But by the looks of things, Riley was seriously messed up and he was going to take a lot of sorting out. He didn’t envy Buffy one little bit.
TBC…
Graphic and icon by me.
Spinning boxes from: http://www.fortunecity.com/victorian/hillcrest/76/hellraiser/index2.html
Interested in the Hellraiser Mythos? The above website is a good place to start.
Pairing: S/X
A Btvs/Hellraiser x-over
Summary: Riley returns to Sunnydale and brings back a mysterious puzzle box.
Rating: 18
Warnings: Erm, just about every warning you can think of. Character Deaths (Not the boys. Everybody else is fair game), Torture, Dark Themes, References to Non-Con, Non-Con, Sexual Abuse, Extreme violence, Badly Timed Jokes, S&M Themes and probably a whole lot more once I think of them.
Thanks and hugs to the amazing
kitty_poker1 for the wonderful beta.Hellraiser: The Angels Beneath
By Suki Blue
He’d spent so long thinking about it, sensing it and just feeling it. There was power beneath its ancient, sculptured surface and it called to him, every day.
For the first six months after he’d found it in some random war-torn village, he’d been terrified of it. He’d kept it hidden away in the back of a dark, dusty cupboard, wrapped in a dirty, bloodstained shirt. He wasn’t even sure why he’d taken it.
Riley’s unit had stormed the tiny village on the southern coast of Crete. Tralor demons had been in occupation for over a month, fighting and persecuting the resident humans and the peaceful demon Piklia tribe. Riley and his team had been sent to eliminate and cleanse all that wasn’t human. And if a human got in the way? Well, that was war. Population expendable.
The ‘war’ had been won in just a few hours. All demons, good and bad, were purged and destroyed. And any humans that might have survived had fled. The village was as Earth’s first day. Desolate.
Riley had wandered around the tiny streets and deserted buildings, looking for any signs of demon survivors to finish off. He’d climbed a steep road on the west side of the village and had found himself standing outside what was probably once some kind of bar or coffee shop. The building was burnt out; nothing could have survived. What made him enter, he would never quite know.
That was when he’d found it. A small coppery coloured box, adorned with a golden pattern, sat on a shelf just inside the building. It had been a trinket amongst trinkets. The floor was littered with broken ornaments, headless dolls and shattered glass. Only one ornament had survived the fight. The box. It sat alone on the shelf and it reached out to him, calling and drawing him in. He’d taken it immediately, feeling that somehow it belonged to him. His missing link. This small object had the power to give him everything. He’d stashed it in his backpack, not caring that he was stealing from someone who had nothing. Not that it really mattered. The owner of this battered establishment was probably dead anyhow. Riley’s unit had cleansed pretty well.
It wasn’t until he arrived back at base camp that his whole body had begun to shake, fear coursing through him like a fiery missile. He’d excused himself and retired to his bunk, flinging his backpack into the corner. He could hardly bear to look at it. Just the thought of touching the box again made his stomach heave. What had he done? Why had he taken it?
Because it was his.
He knew that he couldn’t get rid of it. He couldn’t throw it away any more than he could cut off his leg and throw that away. He was overwhelmed with the feeling that the box was a part of him now and would be forever. The feeling made him feel sick inside and out.
The box thrummed away in the corner, calling, crawling, screaming and clawing at him, begging him to open it up and bathe in its divine pleasures. He tried to block it out, god knows he did, but it was useless. The box wanted to be touched, wanted Riley’s hands to caress and explore it. It wanted him to see, feel, experience and swim in its black depths.
It had taken three quarters of a bottle of white rum before Riley had got up the courage to touch his precious find. There was no way that he could leave it where it was. He had to shut it up before it drove him to edge of his sanity. He ripped open the backpack and tore the box from its hiding place. He quickly wrapped it in the shirt he’d worn in the battle and sighed with relief. The deafening voices and white noise in his head had died down to a dull murmur. It was as if the fabric was keeping hell at bay, the blood of the innocent and the guilty securing the box in an encapsulating barrier. It was still enough to drive him crazy, but at least he wasn’t about to slit his wrists open. He stared down at the bundle he held with madly shaking hands and wondered how he was supposed to carry on. His life had altered in a matter of seconds. A choice faced him: take the box and experience the Divine or walk away and continue with his life. That wasn’t really a choice. The box wouldn’t let him have the luxury of deciding. He’d had to take it and now he had to keep it with him. It was his. It belonged to him. He would guard it and protect it with his life.
And that was how the box had stayed for six months, wrapped in the evidence of pain and conflict and stuffed in a boot at the back of a cupboard. Out of sight but never out of mind. Then, he’d had a revelation, a way to get his floundering life back on track. So he moved back to Sunnydale. His head told him over and over that he wanted Buffy back in his life, to leave the corps and fight the good fight with the Slayer by his side. The box told him that it wanted to go home.
So here he was, a year and a half after finding the box. He had a nice life, a few good friends, a nice apartment that he shared with his wonderful girlfriend and a comfy job with the Sunnydale Police Department. It should have felt good. But it didn’t. The box stayed always in his mind, always there, always chatting to him, screaming and spitting at him. Never letting him leave its clutches and always promising a paradise of eternal damnation. Some days his curiosity was almost too much. It battled with him and nearly tore him in two. The only thing that kept his sanity from slipping completely away was the almost constant flow of liquor. Even then the urge to rip the box from its dark hiding place was painful beyond his own comprehension.
So, in the dark it stayed. Riley was trapped in an endless cycle of burning desire and rigid terror. He re-lived his wonder of how to carry on every day. But at the same time he wondered how he could carry on without the box. Each long day that passed, life seemed more and more drab, his very existence covered in a grey shadow. Nothing could get through, not Buffy, not his friends, nothing, nothing except the box that burned so brightly into his eyes and burrowed into his skull.
It would come. One day. He knew it. He would face it and know its dark delights. The thought terrified him, yet filled him with joy. It would be soon. He felt it. His walls were crumbling, his sanity waning. One look, that was all it would take.
Riley prayed that he would never have to look at the box again. And he hoped that he would wake and find it waiting on his pillow.
He wanted it. He hated it. He couldn’t live without it.
**
“I don’t see why I have to go,” Spike complained. What with Passions being cancelled in place of some stupid ‘news flash’, he’d already had a gutful for one day.
“Because it’s Buffy’s birthday and we’ve both been invited.”
“I still don’t see…”
“Because it’s a happy occasion, we are all friends and I *know* that you want to see Buffy’s face when she opens our present.”
“Look, you know I like Buffy. I don’t have a problem, you know that. But you also know that Riley gets right up my nose.”
“Riley’s a friend,” Xander protested.
“Riley’s a drunk.”
“He isn’t!”
Spike let it go. Xander always saw only the good in people and proving him wrong was like poking a dolphin in the eye. Riley *was* a drunk. Everybody knew it, but nobody wanted to accept it. But Spike had accepted it a long time ago. He smelled it on his breath, on his clothes, even on Buffy. And the stench grew stronger with each passing day. Spike hated being around him and, more than that, he hated Xander being around him, almost fearing his lover would be somehow tainted by Riley’s pungent proximity.
And the only thing worse than being in Riley’s presence was being in Riley’s apartment. He couldn’t place what it was, he just felt chilled to the bone and that was saying something for Spike. The walls seemed to close in on him and Spike would feel almost suffocated.
Spike hid his aversion well, using the excuse of his previous disagreements with the soldier. There was a long history there. A history of hatred, jealousy and the love of a Slayer. Of course, all that was long since past. Spike held no flame for Buffy now. Hell, he didn’t even hold a damp match for her. He’d moved on a long time ago. It hadn’t been love. It had been pain, obsession and the desire to be hurt. Spike had been in a bad place back then, still coming to terms with the chip in his head and his new place among the living. It hadn’t been easy, living around humans. It had been like trying to walk again. Buffy had been a way to distance himself, to still be the Big Bad, to corrupt a Slayer and turn her to his dark corner of life. It had never been love. He'd realised that when he’d stumbled across the real thing. Xander was his all, his everything, his life. He loved him until his un-beating heart sang. This wasn’t a love that hurt or scraped away at his innards until there was nothing left. This was true love. Xander was his truth.
Spike smiled at his frowning lover and flung an arm around his shoulders. If Xander wanted to go to a birthday party that would probably end in tears, then so be it. Spike would attend without further complaint and make sure that Xander wasn’t the one doing the crying.
**
“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!” Xander bellowed as Buffy opened the front door.
“Hey, Xand, Spike. Come in. The party’s already started.” Buffy’s lips spoke with joy and excitement, but her eyes gave her away. They seemed almost dead, unseeing, her gaze flowing right through them.
Xander gave Spike a slightly worried look before stepping inside and keeping up the pretence of ‘happy, happy’.
“Hey, guys!” he chirped at Willow and Tara. The two witches sat together on the couch, paper plates, loaded with nibbles, lying on their laps.
“Xander!” Willow called with a panicked wave and a mouthful of pig in blanket.
Xander turned to Spike before he joined her. “Be a good vampire, *please.* Try not to steal or break anything.”
Spike gave him his most innocent look before making a bee-line for the buffet table.
Xander sat next to his best friend and stole a sausage from her plate. “So, Wills, why the wide eyes? Were you waiting for the Xan-man to come and kick-start this party?” he asked, his voice full of humour.
“Um, actually, yes.”
“Oh. I was joking…”
“Xander, this party is a disaster. Buffy is flying around the room like a mad person and Riley is nowhere to be seen.”
“Buffy’s flying?! Wills, did you do a bad spell again?” Xander asked, ready to waggle his finger at his witchy friend.
“No! I didn’t mean literally! She’s…she’s…”
“She’s fussing and acting like nothing is wrong when something obviously is.” Tara finished.
“I see. And you’re both expecting me to…” Xander searched for a word to describe what he was supposed to do and gave up.
“Just liven things up. Do your thing. Go, Xan-man, go.”
Spike approached just in time to hear Willow's last sentence. “Go where, pet? Home? Good. I’ll come with you.”
“Willow wants me to liven up the party.”
Spike thought about it. “You could strip.”
“Spike!”
“Well, you need to do something radical. I reckon this party died before it started.”
“Shhh!” Xander urged as Buffy came into view.
“What was that?” she asked, completely oblivious.
“Erm, Spike was just asking where the G-man was.”
“Hm? Oh, Giles. He called to say…to say…” Buffy looked distractedly behind her, towards the stairs. “He called to say that he was going to be late…Would you all excuse me?”
Xander and Spike watched as Buffy walked up the stairs.
“What’s wrong with Buffy?” Xander asked.
“I think it's Riley,” Tara replied. “He hasn’t come down all evening and we heard them arguing earlier.”
“Oh.”
“Typical. Asshole can’t even play nice on his bird’s birthday.”
“Spike, don’t…”
Before Xander could properly chide his love for his insensitivity, a loud crash resounded from the floor above and muffled shouts were thrown back and forth. A moment later, Riley appeared at the top of the stairs. His hair was greasy and unwashed and a beard of at least a week covered his chin and jaw. He was a mess.
Silence descended and Riley looked like he’d rather be anywhere else.
Xander drew in a shaky breath as he took in his friend’s appearance. Riley looked like he hadn’t slept in a month.
Riley shifted uncomfortably, hating the stares from his so-called friends. Couldn’t they understand that he just wanted to be left alone? Why couldn’t Buffy understand? Why did she push him *every time*?
“Riley, hon, why don’t you get something to eat? I’ve laid lots on.”
“I already told you, I’m not hungry,” Riley snapped.
Buffy looked crestfallen, her eyes dropping to the floor. “I’m sorry, I thought…”
“Well, you thought wrong.”
Silence again.
Willow and Tara looked pleadingly at Xander. There weren’t many choices left. It was either cheer the place up a bit or leave. And there was only one person in the entire universe that could cheer up a room as cold as this.
Xander mouthed a bewildered ‘What?’ to his friends. What the hell did they expect him to do? There was obviously a situation playing out here. What could he do except open his mouth wide and insert one size thirteen?
“Say sommit daft, pet,” Spike whispered helpfully. “Take the focus off Captain Cardboard.”
“Say what?”
“I dunno. You’re the expert.”
Xander was torn between hitting his lover and kissing him passionately. Even though Spike really didn’t like Riley, he still felt for him. It proved that Spike didn’t need a soul to be compassionate.
Xander smiled and Spike looked confused. He’d expected a slap.
With the decision made, Xander moved across the room and prepared to say something stupid.
“Did anyone see that documentary on peanuts last night? I don’t know where we’d be without them. They put them in everything. ‘Course, that’s a real stinker for anyone that’s allergic.”
Tara raised her hand. “I’m allergic,” she said.
“See? My point exactly.”
Everyone was confused.
“Did you know that I hated peanut butter when I was a kid? I ate a whole jar once and was sick *everywhere.* I couldn’t look another jar in the face after that. Well, not for a few years, anyway. Now? Love the stuff…in moderation. Really good for smearing on…I might just shut up now.”
Riley finally managed a small laugh and moved to stand next to his babbling friend. “No. Don’t shut up. Don’t ever shut up. Put some music on, Xander, and I’ll get us some beers.”
“Great! Got any nuts?”
**
Boring, middle of the road music played softly on the stereo and the conversation was somewhat strained. Giles had turned up at some point in the evening, but Xander barely noticed. He was far too busy watching Riley. His normally happy and healthy friend had deteriorated so much since coming back to Sunnydale a year ago. At first the changes were small, barely noticeable. His absence at a few Scooby meetings. The occasional bouts of biting Buffy’s head off. But as time went on, things became more apparent. Riley wouldn’t show his face for weeks at a time and when he did he was drawn and uninterested. It was like he was folding in on himself, curling up into a tiny ball that no-one would be able to see.
When finally Xander thought that he’d used up every scrap of subject matter required for polite conversation, Spike came over. His lover slipped an arm around his waist and addressed Riley.
“Soooo, how’s the job going?”
Riley snapped. He’d been enjoying a peaceful time with Xander, allowing the younger man to lull his senses with pointless prattle. It was just what he needed. Life was so harsh, so demanding. Pressures at work, Buffy nagging and just fucking *demanding* all the time.
Why don’t you get out of bed? Isn’t it too early for a drink? No, Riley, please don’t, please don’t do that to me. Bitch.
Talking with Xander had been nice. His friend had spoken of the weather, athletics, the regularity of the garbage collection. It allowed him to drift to a place where he had no worries, no fears and NO. FUCKING. BOX. And now, here was that son-of-a-bitch vampire getting in his face and spoiling it all.
“Fuck off, Spike. I don’t know what you think your game is, but I’m not in the mood.”
“Whoa, Riley, cool down, yeah? He was just making conversation.”
“Yeah. Making conversation,” Spike confirmed. “What’s your problem, soldier?”
“Don’t call me soldier. I am not a soldier.”
“Oh yeah. Forgot. You never did tell us why you left. Threw your sorry, unstable arse out, did they?”
Riley lunged at the smirking vampire. “I’ll kill you!”
“No, no! No killing of any kind will be had!” Xander shouted, jumping between the two men and holding Riley back. “Why don’t we all return to our corners and get refreshments? Round one is *over*.”
Riley shrugged Xander off and headed for the stairs. “Just get out,” he whispered wearily.
“Riley…” Buffy started, intent on giving her lover a mouthful for starting trouble with her friends.
“No, don’t, Buff. Leave it. It’s okay,” Xander pleaded.
“It isn’t okay. None of this is okay.”
“What do you want us to do? We can stay, or we’ll all go if that’s what you want,” Willow asked.
“Sorry, guys. It’s probably best that you all go. Riley hasn’t been well lately. I’d better go take care of him.”
“You sure, Buffster? It is your birthday. You wanna come party at our place? Spike bought a cocktail shaker!”
“Shhh, pet!”
“Sorry. Well? You wanna?”
“Thanks, Xand. I’d better not. Riley needs me.”
Xander nodded his understanding. If it was Spike that was behaving so wiggy, he’d stay with him until he sorted out whatever the problem was. But by the looks of things, Riley was seriously messed up and he was going to take a lot of sorting out. He didn’t envy Buffy one little bit.
TBC…
Graphic and icon by me.
Spinning boxes from: http://www.fortunecity.com/victorian/hillcrest/76/hellraiser/index2.html
Interested in the Hellraiser Mythos? The above website is a good place to start.
